


Right over Here (why can't you see me)

by Hyeyu



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), M/M, Pining Oikawa Tooru, This is why Iwaizumi cannot have nice things, bar setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-09
Packaged: 2018-08-14 02:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7994722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyeyu/pseuds/Hyeyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As much as Tooru jokes that Iwaizumi is ugly, that he'd find it difficult to get anyone interested in him, he knows it's not true. He's sure Iwaizumi knows the airy jabs are just his best friend being petty the way he always is, saying things to needle rather than to point out truth. It's a character flaw the both of them have acknowledged over the years they shared together.</p><p>Still, Tooru's said the non-insults so often, dropped them so lightly in conversation that it's actually startling when Iwaizumi occasionally proves them wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right over Here (why can't you see me)

**Author's Note:**

> Quick and dirty drabble-fic - any excuse to play in Oikawa's headspace, really. 
> 
> Title comes from Calum Scott's rendition of 'Dancing on my Own'.

As much as Tooru jokes that Iwaizumi is ugly, that he'd find it difficult to get anyone interested in him, he knows it's not true. He's sure Iwaizumi knows the airy jabs are just his best friend being petty the way he always is, saying things to needle rather than to point out truth. It's a character flaw the both of them have acknowledged over the years they shared together.

Still, Tooru's said the non-insults so often, dropped them so lightly in conversation that it's actually startling when Iwaizumi occasionally proves them wrong.

He's standing by the bar, arms on the counter as he talks with the bartender. The old shirt he's wearing is worn enough that it leaves little to the imagination, thin material hugging the grooves of firm abdominals and pecs.The sleeves are tight around generous biceps, tan and smooth in the dull light of the bar. Even as Tooru watches, another man sidles up to them, interest obvious in his face. Iwaizumi chuckles at something the newcomer says, a slow grin tugging a corner of his mouth upwards. He shifts, and the lines of muscles practically imprinted into the shirt shift with him as he eyes the other man up and down, one eyebrow raised.

Tooru downs his shot in a single motion, already forgetting about the girl pressed up against him. He can't quite remember her name - Reiko? Reina? - but he's considerate enough to carefully untangle his arm from crimson-tipped fingernails, smiling the smile he's practiced often enough in the mirror to know it works. "Oh, look at that,  it seems like I'm all out of alcohol."

Reika(?) pouts, her lipstick too dark against her skin as she scrabbles to clutch Tooru closer. Useless - only one person has ever succeeded in holding onto Tooru when he’s in a mood. "I thought your friend went to get more."

"Yes, and now it seems I have to go get my friend," Tooru murmurs. "Excuse me."

His mother used to say that if you constantly associate a personality trait with yourself, you would grow to accommodate said trait, even if you didn't possess it before. 'Positive reinforcement', she had called it, a piece of advice learnt from the talk show that aired at four in the evening on weekdays.

Tooru is handsome. Tooru is diligent. Tooru is intelligent.

Tooru is also selfish. So, so very selfish.

It’s easy to wind his way towards the bar past the empty tables and chairs - not many people go out drinking on a Wednesday night. Iwaizumi wouldn’t usually be out drinking either; alcohol and sleep deprivation are a bitch on the system when you have 8-AM Physiotherapy Rehabilitation Science 2 classes this semester. But Tooru had dragged him out on a whim, and if all goes well, he’ll be the one dragging Iwaizumi back to their shared apartment.

"Iwa-chan," he trills, artlessly throwing himself over Iwaizumi's back as he dangles, loose-limbed from broad shoulders. "You're taking too looooong. It doesn’t take _that_ much IQ to order two rounds of beer."

"Shut up, dumbass." Iwaizumi doesn't completely shove him off, pushing at him half-heartedly. "What happened - has she realized how disgusting your personality is already?"

"Please, I’m hot enough to make up for any character defects.” Iwaizumi is firm and solid, unyielding where Reira(?) had been soft. Pressed against him this way, the warmth of skin seeps easily through the layers of shirts between the two of them. “Why are you taking so long anyway? I got tired of waiting."

Iwaizumi is patient. Iwaizumi is too nice for his own good. Iwaizumi is Tooru's.

(Tooru knows positive reinforcement doesn't work that way, but he tries. God, he tries.)

The bartender laughs as he wipes down a mug, setting it down on the counter with a clink. "This your boyfriend?"

Tooru is also sometimes a coward. He doesn't want to hear the denial, never wants to hear it vocalized in Iwaizumi's familiar voice. So he always answers first.

"Iwa-chan only wishes he could hook someone as pretty as me." A flash of teeth again, just enough to dazzle. It works on a good 90% of the people he's met so far. "Right, Iwa-chan?"

The stranger, annoyingly enough, is still focused on Iwaizumi as he smirks, slow and sure. He's good-looking too, in the careless way of someone who’s lucked out in the gene pool. "Hey, ‘Iwa-chan’.” It sounds wrong, falling so easily from another person’s mouth. “I'm considered a pretty boy too. Might be your lucky night."

Iwaizumi snorts, but in the way that signals he's intrigued. This is bad. "Pretty ballsy statement there. What makes you think you'd have a shot with me in the first place?"

"We're at a bar, I've always got a shot." The man grins at the pun he's inadvertently made, and Iwaizumi laughs at how pleased he looks. Tooru's heart sinks a bit more. Iwaizumi's just the right ratio of sober and relaxed tonight - Tooru's made sure of that half an hour ago. He knows by heart how much alcohol Iwaizumi should imbibe for the crease in his forehead to flatten out completely, for the tension in his back to loosen. He knows how much Iwaizumi should imbibe to smile more than he frowns, especially around Tooru.

He knows because he's done this too many times, soften Iwaizumi up just so, in case he ever musters up enough liquid courage for the right-wrong words to spill off his tongue. But where Tooru had mastered the intoxication ratio for Iwaizumi's maximum receptiveness, he has yet to figure out his own.

The stranger's hand is creeping towards Iwaizumi's, spider-like across the hardwood of the bar table. Tooru stares at it. Iwaizumi's watching it too, half-smile still on his face, unmoving. He's going to allow it, Tooru realizes with growing horror. He's going to allow himself to go back with this, this unknown person. Iwaizumi’s no virgin, but the idea of Iwaizumi fucking someone else tonight, sweaty and guttural and _naked_ against foreign sheets  -

Not on Tooru’s watch. Never on Tooru’s watch.

"He's with me."

It tumbles out before Tooru can stop himself, rushed and breathless. Both the other man and Iwaizumi turn to him, the former's eyes curious, the latter's disbelieving. Tooru can't swallow his words, but improvisation got him an alternate spot on Japan’s national team - maybe it’d work in his favor here as well.

"Annnnnd I'm totally drunk~" A giggle would be too blatant, so Tooru fakes a small hiccup instead, rolling daringly against Iwaizumi’s back, crotch then stomach then chest against that broad expanse. "And soooooo tired. Forget the beers, Iwa-chan, take me home?"

"You can't actually be fucking serious." Iwaizumi's voice is incredulous, the timbre of his usual tenor rising a couple of notches. His grip on Tooru’s wrist is sudden, verging on too tight and Tooru closes his eyes to prevent them from betraying him.  "Oi, Shittykawa, what the fuck. Are you listening? _Oikawa_."

"Throw him into a cab," the stranger suggests, frowning at the disruption. He probably doesn't buy the ruse - hell, Tooru would have denounced himself on the spot as well. He's a skilled volleyball player, but his acting skills only extend as far as 'acting normal around Iwa-chan'. "He doesn't look that pissed. He’ll be fine."

Tooru doesn't have to look to know Iwaizumi's frowning; he’s worried, albeit reluctantly. Tooru has won. "...Ah, fuck it. Here, give me your number. I'll text you?"

The man reels off a series of numbers and a name, and Tooru listens so he knows which to delete accidentally-on-purposely. From his vantage point, he can’t see if Iwaizumi smiles at his new 'friend', doesn't care to know anyway. Instead, he allows himself to be manhandled out of the bar by Iwaizumi. His best friend's never dropped him before even when at his most enraged, and he won't do it now.

He blows a triumphant kiss in the direction of where he thinks Raina(?) is,  wonders if she is looking at them. He'd be jealous of himself if he were her.

The chill of the night air bites into skin upon contact, sharp after the muzzy heat of the bar. Iwaizumi waits until they’re a couple of steps away from the entrance before he shakes Tooru. "You can stop pretending now, asshole. What the fuck was that about?"

'What was what about?" Damn, maybe he really is a teeny bit tipsy, given how naturally slurred that sounded. He’s teetering, and maybe he’s drunk after all, high on relief.

"Don't play dumb - you never get drunk." Iwaizumi grimaces, frustration etched into all his features. "I was doing pretty well back there too, damn it. Honestly, you and your shitty timing - you never see me interrupting you when you hit on people..."

And that there is the fucking problem, Tooru thinks, tuning the rest of Iwaizumi's rant out. Iwaizumi is the perfect best friend when Tooru flirts with others, knowing when to disappear when necessary, and when to interrupt when needed. What Tooru wants is not an effective wingman. What he wants is a jealous...something. Boyfriend? Partner? What he wants is for Iwaizumi to feel the kind of jealousy Tooru feels, the horrible insides-shredding one that can only be born out of the need to be wanted, to be noticed and loved entirely.

He's not sure Iwaizumi likes him enough that way to ever feel that kind of jealousy though. Tooru's kept an eye on him in between meaningless kisses and fluttering eyelashes, and not once, not one single time, has Iwaizumi ever displayed anything close to the possessiveness Tooru guards Iwaizumi with.

Tooru's free to hit on and sleep with anything that moves because Iwaizumi doesn't care. But as long as Iwaizumi's in Tooru's vicinity, Iwa-chan’s love life would remain pathetically limited until Tooru reaches a breaking point. It's soon. It's got to be soon. Tooru isn't looking forward to it, is trying to stall it so that he can do something, anything that might put him in a more advantageous position when it all comes crashing down.

But Tooru has never been good at these things when Iwaizumi factors into the picture.

He probably looks pretty pathetic because Iwaizumi finally sighs, long and low. When he next speaks, his voice is gentler. "C'mon, Shittykawa. Looks like that's it for tonight for either of us. Can you walk straight?"

"Yeah." An easy question; Tooru wishes all questions could be that easily answered. _Do you like me? Could you love me? Would you hate me?_

For tonight though, he postpones all of them to an infinitely later date as they stumble back to where their apartment is, and dares to lean his head on Iwaizumi's shoulder.

“At least I got his number,” Iwaizumi muses, even as he supports Tooru. “So that wasn’t completely a bust. Speaking of which, did you get Riko’s number? She was pretty much dry-humping you earlier. Seems your type.”

Ah, so that’s her name. Tooru smiles, a transparent, thin line in the dark.

“Of course, Iwa-chan. Who do you take me for?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> (ू′o‵ ू) Thank you for reading!
> 
> Seriously, I should just get a copy+paste code to credit [Enzen](wataksampingan.tumblr.com) for putting up with my fanfic-flailing every single time.
> 
> I have a tumblr over [here](http://hweiro.tumblr.com/); feel free to pop by!


End file.
